


Sunkissed

by Mad_Mage



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Growling Lannisters, Implied Sexual Content, Irritated big cats, Jealousy, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-21 10:35:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Mage/pseuds/Mad_Mage
Summary: They were consenting adults. Damn it, she was on holiday and was nursing a broken heart. Rebound fling was almost a necessity, Margaery would say and cheer her on.---Modern AU featuring vineyards, beaches, and hotness.





	1. Another great mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing’s mine, I’m just a poor mad mage.
> 
> Welcome to my newest Tywin/Sansa story, this one inspired by my trip to Italy! Hope you enjoy it :)

The heat was exquisite. Sansa loved the feeling, liquid warmth spreading through her tired limbs, from head to toe, copying the path of the sunbeams caressing her skin. There was something quite different about the sunlight in northern Dorne. The sun was closer, bigger – a large yellow disc in the skies and everything under it reflected the same rich golden and orange hues.

There was something quite different about the men, too. You could tell the locals from any of the tourists just by the sharp way they were dressed and how they looked, not to mention how they behaved. Oh, yes, Sansa enjoyed the view a lot. It was a pity that they were mostly shorter than her; the spark in their dark eyes and the promises lingering in the corners of their smiles had the ability to leave her flustered.

The Dornish culture was fascinating, their liberal traditions were so unlike anything she could encounter in other parts of Westeros. Their openness about sexuality and sexual offers had been the reason why she had spent the first two days of her stay in Dorne blushing like a tomato, turning down handsome men left and right.

Sansa’s eyes were drawn yet again to the tall figure on the other end of the bar’s terrace. She had caught only a glimpse of white earlier but among the plethora of vacationers dressed in ugly colorful shirts and swim trunks, a classy man in a white suit and fedora was bound to stand out. She had tried her best not to stare at his back and certainly not to ogle his broad shoulders as he sat in shade and turned away from her. She might be in Dorne but she wasn’t Dornish to so openly acknowledge her interest – plus she was surrounded by other tourists who shared the same prudish upbringing as her and staring was both rude and embarrassing.

Yet she couldn’t help herself. He wasn’t a local – was too tall for that, and the tanned skin of his hands – she had observed him gesture for a waiter with those large, strong hands – was too light to belong to a man born under the Dornish sun. It was a pity – for him, she would have considered adopting the local approach to love and passion.

Shaking her head, she snorted lightly. Here she was, being distracted by a guy whose face she hadn’t even seen, thinking about what a pity it was that she wasn’t as forthcoming as Dornish women. However, she had watched him interact with his surroundings and only a completely oblivious person would not notice the self-assured way he carried himself, the confidence evident in his every movement. Sansa liked that in a man – gods knew how many troubles it had brought her, but she liked that in a man.

Closing her eyes, she decided to enjoy the heat of the sunlight and ignore the object of her interest. Sansa was one of a few people sitting in the sun, leaning back against her comfortable chair as she gazed at the beach and glittering waves underneath her. She hated cold weather and had taken every opportunity to escape from Winterfell’s summer snows. Her parents had been so dismayed when she had announced her plans to study in King’s Landing and tried to lure her back north every chance they got. They had plans for her – she was to marry a suitable boy and settle down, raising a family of her own close to their estate so they could spoil their grandchildren and meddle in her life as much as possible. They even had a boy in mind already, she was sure.

“Mind if I join you?” asked a deep voice.

Hmm, what a voice… _Wait, what?_

Sansa opened her eyes, blinking up at the shape above her for a moment. Then her vision cleared and she gasped and sat up straighter. It was the guy in white and he was smiling down at her, a tall glass of iced water dangling from between his long fingers while he was leaning against the handrail of the glass balustrade casually.

How long had he been standing there? Forget that, how was it possible that someone had such green eyes? Oh gods, forget even _that_! He was staring at her, waiting for her to speak.

“Oh!” _Very intelligent, Sansa, do continue_. “O-oh, of course… S-sure, I mean, if you like…”

_Stuttering? Wow!_ She cursed herself and felt how her cheeks were turning pink. The way the man smiled let her know that she had completely embarrassed herself. Just great, that’s what she wanted to do in the first place, right? Just make an idiot out of herself in front of the man she had been ogling, why not?

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” With that, he put his glass down on the table and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on the backrest of the chair next to her. He gracefully sat down in his seat, tilting his fedora so it shielded his eyes better, and proceeded to roll up his sleeves. Sansa followed his movements in slight daze not quite believing what was happening – the man looked like he planned to spend some time in her company. He wore navy blue shirt with three top buttons unfastened, and his forearms were nice and by nice she meant nicely shaped and muscled as one would expect from a man who worked with his hands, and were covered in light golden hairs; the same golden hairs that were peeking from under that damned shirt.

There was a moment of silence and then he looked at her, his grin widening. Sansa blushed some more and bit her tongue to keep herself from uttering something else which would make her sound brainless. His short beard and what could be seen of his hair shared the same color and she couldn’t help but wonder where else the golden hair grew, so noticeable against his sunkissed skin.

The fact that there were fine lines on his face and traces of gray in his beard did absolutely nothing to stop her from thinking about that. He was older than Sansa’s father for gods’ sake! He was probably old enough to be her grandfather if one got creative with math.

“I noticed you sitting alone and thought that I’d come and introduce myself.”

Oh, he had noticed her staring at him and decided to come over, in other words, and see what she wanted. What was it that Sansa wanted? She had no idea but perhaps she could start by giving her name? Sansa’s brain finally decided to rejoin her. She smiled back at the man, inclining her head.

“I’m Sansa.”

“You may call me Tywin.”

They shook hands and she tried to ignore the spark of electricity that ran through her at the contact. His hand was so much larger than hers, the skin of his palm warm and smooth, and there was a large gold ring shaped into a lion’s head on his right ring finger. For some reason, the detail captured her attention for a moment but Sansa couldn’t tell why.

“On holiday?” he asked, leaning back, crossing his leg over his knee – the very picture of calm confidence while Sansa was slowly dissolving into a puddle of nerves. Daydreaming about approaching him with her very Dornish offer was one thing. Sitting next to him was a completely different experience and she was feeling like a typical blushing, tongue-tied maiden from a historical movie instead of a young, self-assured woman she usually was in other circumstances. What was wrong with her? Sansa hadn’t had this reaction to a man since she had been twelve and had had her very first crush on Sandor, her siblings’ martial instructor. She had been perfectly content to admire Tywin from afar, he hadn’t had to come and offer her a front seat view.

He was the kind of man who she should avoid; older, rich, and coming with heavy baggage as older and rich men were usually prone to do. Sansa certainly shouldn’t enjoy this particular view and she shouldn’t even be thinking where one innocent conversation in a beach bar could lead.

She had promised herself to stop that, hadn’t she? Her stupidity was the reason why she was in Dorne during the second week of February _alone_ in the first place while the whole destination was crawling with couples happily anticipating Valentine’s Day.

“Yeah, and you?” It seemed that her brain was still considering leaving her to face this challenge alone which was a bad idea. Without even a sliver of doubt, Sansa knew that she was in trouble. The more reasonable part of her was screaming at her to stop it, not to talk to him anymore – but the rest of Sansa made herself comfortable, willing to sit and watch as everything burned.

“Oh, no,” he chuckled and shook his head. “I live here.”

“Yes, I can see you look like a typical Dornishman,” she teased, glad her brain had decided to stay with her after all and reached for her glass of virgin pina colada. He lived there! He had to be quite familiar with local customs and a friendly greeting to a lone woman was even by normal Westeros standards not exactly the main reason why a man would approach a woman in a bar.

“I’d like to think I’m slightly taller than a typical Dornishman.” Amusement laced his words and Sansa was illogically proud of herself at that moment. She had prompted him to continue talking to her! “But you are far from home, Sansa. What encouraged you to visit this part of Dorne? There’s really nothing much to do unless you enjoy spending most of your time on the beach or in the sheets.”

Tywin smirked as he pronounced the last part, enjoying Sansa’s hitch in breathing. Yes, he had adopted some of the bluntness of locals, it would seem, but she was unwilling to react to the statement and mused over his question.

_To tell or not to tell?_ For someone so young – she was just finishing university – Sansa had accumulated quite a baggage herself. Ugh, she didn’t want to even think about that asshole who had broken up with her a day before their trip. She mulled about her answer as she took a sip, glancing up into Tywin’s face. For a moment, she got lost in those eyes and had to clear her throat. No, this wasn’t the time and place for a sob story. “Well, the Yronwood is something to see, I heard.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “That’s a waste of time. That place is a tourist trap if I ever saw one. You wouldn’t be able to breathe, let alone move in the mass of people crawling all over the interesting places. In a month or two, when the Christmas, New Year and Valentine’s Day insanity abates and the summer madness doesn’t start yet, that is the ideal time to visit Yronwood.”

“Well, I guess there’s nothing else to do but to enjoy the beach, then.” _Or the sheets_, but she didn’t speak that bit out loud. She didn’t need to if the way Tywin’s nostrils flared were any indication.

He leaned closer, his gaze flickering between her eyes, and then he offered, “I could arrange a private tour of a vineyard if you’d be interested. Local brands are considered the best in Dorne, and Dornish wine is, in turn, considered the best wine in the world. Who knows, there may be even some… _tasting_.”

_Tasting of what?_ Sansa was rather sure he had meant it like she thought he had meant it. Or hadn’t he? The spark in Tywin’s eyes and the promise in the corner of his predatory smile were making her almost breathless. It was the most suggestive look anyone had given her in the last three days and that was saying something.

The damnable flush just wouldn’t leave her cheeks, she resigned herself to that fact, as she returned his searching gaze. Tywin had noticed her ogling and then he had come over and now he was offering her a _private_ tour of a vineyard with _tasting_. They were in Dorne, that was true, but they were approaching it in the more traditional way – playing and flirting instead of simply offering a pleasurable encounter. To be honest, she preferred it that way, it was more fun and the direct approach of the Dornish had made her too uncomfortable to even consider any of the offers seriously. But Tywin? How could she not consider him seriously?

Tywin was an attractive man and Sansa wasn’t going to pretend she possessed any false modesty – she was an attractive woman. If her brain decided to cooperate, she was even intelligent. They were consenting adults. Damn it, she was on holiday and was nursing a broken heart. Rebound fling was almost a necessity, Margaery would say and cheer her on.

There wasn’t any harm in agreeing, was there? She knew how these things worked, especially on holiday. One date – the tour, the tasting, and spending the night – and then she would fly back to KL, finish the school and find a nice internship in a city far from the North or wealthy narcissistic assholes, somewhere warm and sunny.

“You know someone who knows someone to arrange it?” She winked. “Oh, and will there be the tasting, then?”

“Most definitely.” Tywin’s voice deepened and his eyes darkened as he tilted his head to the side. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine and she had to swallow before she could focus on his next question.

“How long are you staying here?”

“Until the fifteenth.”

“Hmm, let’s not waste any more of your limited time in Dorne, shall we? I hope you don’t have any particular plans for tomorrow, Sansa, you’ll be quite busy.”

“I’m all yours, then.” She smiled at him and was rewarded with a languid smirk in return that made her heartbeat quicken. Something warm and heavy and restless sank into her, some feeling she struggled to recognize. It wasn’t a simple desire, no, and it bothered her.

“Good, I like the sound of that,” Tywin murmured and held her gaze, his eyes narrowed in contentment – he resembled a big cat, pleasurably lazing about in the sun. He truly was a handsome man who wore his years with grace. Some men were like good wine, maturity, and age only adding refinement and experience to their charms. At that moment, Sansa distinctively recognized the feeling in her stomach his look had evoked. _Butterflies_. Oh, gods, she was in deep trouble.

“For tomorrow,” she added, willing the butterflies to go away, to disappear. She would be all his only tomorrow.

“For tomorrow,” he repeated with a nod and she didn’t know if his easy agreement disappointed her or not. Anything more than one night was like asking for a disaster. She didn’t know Tywin, of course, but Sansa knew herself and her incredibly bad luck in men. She had possibly the worst luck ever in that department and always ended up attracted to the wrong sort.

Sansa wasn’t sure she could handle another emotional rollercoaster so soon after the last disaster of a relationship. No. A pleasant day in the company of a pleasant man and a night to remember, that was all that was going to come out of it. That was all Sansa would let come out of it, she decided firmly, ignoring the fluttering of her heart when Tywin smiled at her.


	2. Under the olive trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets to visit a vineyard.

Sansa wasn’t able to tell how the last afternoon had passed by. Tywin had invited her to a late lunch and after that, he had excused himself to attend other, most probably work-related issues. She had been too occupied with the thoughts of green eyes to actually pay attention to what she had been doing the rest of the day.

Now she was waiting in front of her monstrous hotel complex in her favorite summer dress with a large straw hat and enormous sunglasses. It was eight in the morning and the heat was slowly creeping up on her but she yet again welcomed it and tilted her face toward the sun. Sansa surprisingly enough didn’t get sunburned often – with the help of sunscreen.

She was giddy, the butterflies in her stomach had only intensified since yesterday, and she was resigned to the fact that she had developed quite a crush on Tywin with no last name. They hadn’t broached too personal subjects in their conversation. He was, as she had suspected, a wealthy man with several prospering companies but he hadn’t offered any specifics and she hadn’t asked. She knew he usually spent a significant part of the year in other parts of Westeros overseeing his other businesses and came to Dorne to relax. She had no idea if he had any children, or if he was married and his wife was enjoying the freedom of a distant husband somewhere in KL, and she didn’t care because any of it hardly mattered. After today, she wouldn’t see him again… if he would show.

The more Sansa thought about it, the less confident she became. It didn’t make any sense that a man as refined as Tywin would be interested in her. Sansa had made a fool of herself the previous afternoon, blushing and stuttering like a stupid little girl. Tywin didn’t seem to be the type to go for blushing virgins so she didn’t understand what he had seen in her in the first place.

However, Tywin arrived on time, putting all her doubts to rest for now. An unremarkable black car with tinted windows approached and he greeted her from the back seat, opening the door, “Good morning, Sansa!”

“Hello, Tywin!” She smiled and slipped inside, sparing only a moment to appreciate the way he looked in his light linen shirt and trousers. It was too early to get so distracted; she would like to attempt a real conversation again. Nodding at the man behind the wheel, she teased with a smirk, “A driver? Really?”

“I am perfectly capable of driving a car, I just thought it better to pay more attention to you than the road.” Tywin’s answer surprised her and when Sansa turned to look at him, she gasped at his proximity.

“Let me help you with those.” He carefully relieved her of the hat and the sunglasses. “Hi there again, I can actually see you now. Isn’t that better?”

“Hi.” Her voice sounded faint to her own ears. She could smell his cologne and she was so close to him that she could see tiny little flecks of gold in his green eyes. She hadn’t noticed before. Tywin had been a perfect gentleman yesterday – holding her chair, pouring her water, never touching her inappropriately. However, he had been stripping her with his eyes the entire time. It seemed he had changed his mind about propriety, personal space and boundaries now when he carefully traced his fingertips along her jawline, observing her reactions, relishing in the way Sansa’s breath escaped her. Her skin tingled, sparks of electricity racing along the path of his touch.

“I was thinking about kissing you yesterday but decided against it. It didn’t seem like you were the type of girl to kiss a man after seeing him for the first time. I believe that a second meeting, on the other hand, is more appropriate. Do you agree with me, Sansa?” he murmured and Sansa’s eyes fluttered shut a millisecond before his lips touched hers.

His lips were soft, confidently moving in perfect sync with hers, and when he deepened the kiss, a bolt of lightning struck her. Sansa’s heart stopped, the world fading away. At that moment, she felt like the kiss was everything she had ever felt and would ever feel, any other sensation paling in comparison. How was it possible that someone could kiss like this? She was melting inside, floating in and out of reality for what could have been hours… but were mere minutes. Probably.

“Hmm,” Tywin purred when the need for air forced him to retreat. One of his hands was cradling the back of Sansa’s neck, the other palming her cheek. “Keep reacting to me like that, and we won’t make it to the vineyard.”

Dazed, she shivered and was promptly pulled into a strong embrace. Breathless laughter escaped her. “Sorry.”

“No, my dear, that wasn’t a reprimand,” he assured her, nuzzling the nape of her neck. “I like your responses – so pure and true, utterly unfeigned.”

_What kind of people he usually meets?_ Sansa wondered if her honest reactions to his person deserved such a notice but she didn’t dare to ask and was soon distracted by his lips on her neck, happily forgetting her own name in the meantime.

They spent the next hour on a dusty winding road copying the coastline. They left the resorts with their beaches far behind them and instead entered idyllic countryside with small houses, green bushes, gnarled trees, and rocky shores. The car turned around a bend in the road and the view of a small valley with a little bay opened in front of them.

“Look, that’s where we’re going.” Tywin pointed out a large stone house on the top of the opposite hill. One of his hands stayed firmly planted on Sansa’s hip to keep her steady and close, the other one gestured out of the window.

“Oh!” Sansa was speechless for a moment as the sight took her breath away. The house was surrounded by a well-kept vineyard, rows upon rows of sunlit green grapevines were gently sloping all the way down to the sparkling sea, where they were replaced by several old olive trees shielding a spot of secluded sandy beach. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, I like to think I take good care of all things in my possession.”

_The vineyard is his?_ She glanced at him and Tywin raised an eyebrow at her, eyes lit up with mirth as he waited for her question. “You own all that?”

“Yes,” he said with a small proud smile. “You should have seen the state I bought it in. The previous owner was an old man and lacked the recourses to take care of the grapes properly. Then a fire ravaged the western part of the vineyard – you can’t see it from here, I’ll show you later – and he finally decided to sell. Their wine is a matter of family pride for the Dornishmen, you know…”

Tywin fell silent when he realized how Sansa looked at him in amusement. “What is it? Are you surprised that I make my own wine?”

Sansa thought about what she knew about him and then she shook her head. He liked good wine, he had told her so, and from the tidbits, she had managed to piece together, he had spent a significant part of his life dealing with fake, unpleasant people. Him owning and running a vineyard in Dorne as a way to relax wasn’t so surprising. The image of Tywin tending to the grapes under the hot Dornish sun – as his strong hands suggested he very well did – was appealing and send her heart beating wildly.

“Not at all,” she said, blushing. “It actually fits you quite well.”

Tywin blinked in surprise, his face momentarily taking on a guarded expression.

“You don’t know me well, Sansa,” he said carefully and shifted his attention away from her. For a second, he was silent and then he offered with a snort, “My daughter calls it ‘mucking around in the dirt,’ and my youngest likes to point out that there are easier ways to obtain a good bottle of wine than to sweat blood out in the vineyard. My brother is indulging me on this but is always immensely relieved when I turn up to run the companies again.”

_His daughter sounds like a real snob and his youngest like a shirker_, thought Sansa uncharitably. Not every well-off family was like the Starks who taught their children the importance of hard and honest work and she would sincerely wish for Tywin’s kids to have a taste of that at least once in their lives. _Might do them some good._

“But you enjoy it, don’t you?” she asked instead of commenting on his children, rather surprised that he had mentioned them at all. It was obvious that Tywin had taken great care of the vineyard, that he loved it. Perhaps _they_ didn’t know their own father that much if they couldn’t see it. “That’s what matters.”

He turned to her, searching her face for something she wasn’t sure he could find there. Then he nodded and as the car came to a stop, he opened the door and helped her out. Offering her the straw hat back, he produced his own fedora with a smirk.

“I’ll show you the western part first, and then we can start with the wine tasting,” he said with a wink, keeping a firm hold of her hand as he led her around the house.

They spent several hours wandering the slopes around the vineyard and Sansa listened with a small tolerant smile to everything Tywin told her about the different types of grapevine that grew in this kingdom of his, and how the grapes were processed and where one could buy the bottles of his very expensive and much sought-after wine. His enthusiasm was quite clear in the way he spoke, how warm his voice sounded, and his face was reflecting the pride he took in his hard work.

_Who is this man?_ Tywin was a shrewd businessman, he needed to be ruthless to succeed, and yet seeing him touching the tiny green leaves of the grapevines gently as he explained about their varieties, moved her like only a few things ever had. Sansa was pretty sure that she hadn’t met a man like him ever before and her heart, that stupid incorrigible thing, was in serious danger. She knew that every moment spent in Tywin’s company was one more opportunity to fall for him but even as she was thinking this very thought, a part of her already knew that it was too late.

She was an idiot, always falling hard in a blink of an eye for the men who were so obviously wrong for her. Tywin was perhaps the first one who wasn’t an utter asshole but Sansa was quite sure he could be one who would shatter her into a thousand pieces if she was not careful.

They picked up a blanket and a picnic basket loaded with food – and a bottle of Tywin’s favorite wine – and made their way down to the beach to rest under the olive trees. She idly wondered if he happened to make his own olive oil – she wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

After their lunch, Tywin urged her to lean against him as he relaxed against the nearest tree trunk, so Sansa found a comfortable position with her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. The murmur of waves, the chirping of cicadas in the grove around them and the steady rhythm of his breathing were quickly lulling her to sleep but she resisted. One day, that was all she would ever have of this man, and she wasn’t willing to waste her precious time _sleeping_.

“I have a confession to make,” he started softly, playing with a strand of Sansa’s hair as he stared out at the water. “I’m not usually one to participate in the Dornish national past time of fucking a pick-up from a random bar.”

_What’s that supposed to mean?_ Sansa was silent, not daring to breathe for a minute, and then she cleared her throat. “How unusual for a man living in Dorne.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You didn’t look like you came to Dorne to get fucked senseless either. Trust me, I can tell a woman like that a mile off.”

Tywin had to be good at appraising others given the success of his companies and the fact that every gold-digger he met would try and snare him. He was right, of course. Sansa hadn’t come to Dorne for that. She had come because the hotel and flight tickets had been already purchased, because she hadn’t wanted to stay in KL or go to Winterfell for the holiday, explaining to her family and friends that her boyfriend had left her a day before their trip. She had come to enjoy the sun, and the view, but hadn’t had any interest in _actually_ sleeping with any of the locals until she had met Tywin. _Thank gods he couldn’t read my thoughts yesterday._

“Yet here we are,” she whispered, holding her breath. If he backed out now, he would surely break her heart. If he didn’t back out, he would, too.

“Here we are.” He tilted his head to look down at her, his eyes serious and thoughtful. “I enjoyed your company, Sansa. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to find someone genuine in the sea of pretenders, posers, and liars out there.”

She had some idea. Unfortunately, she had dated a few of those cheating bastards, but his experience in that area was bound to be even greater. So was this what had attracted his attention? Sansa’s honest interest in just him? How could any woman with eyes not be honestly interested in a gorgeous, intense man like him who took care of a vineyard as a hobby? He sounded too good to be true.

“Where does it leave us, then?”

“I’d suggest we enjoy the genuineness for a bit longer.”

Tywin gave her enough time to move away but she didn’t. This time, when his mouth descended on hers, there was no lightning striking her in her very core; just warmth and tenderness enveloping her at the same time his arms did. Sansa knew that she was lost, already broken by the way he caressed her, so lovingly. She could already feel her heart cracking and knew the sorrow that would follow once she would leave Dorne behind. She knew and she sighed and kissed him back with a disarming sweetness, enjoying these moments with him to the fullest. He slowly lowered her on the blanket and made love to her under the olive trees to the sounds of the sea and chirping of the cicadas long into the afternoon. And after that, when Sansa was sure he wouldn’t see, she cried and cursed her tender stupid heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t have access to my personal computer and therefore notes to my other works, so I’m pouring my free time into this little fiction until I get back. Thanks for reading and hope you had fun ;)


	3. Flights of fancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin plans a surprise but is surprised instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tywin’s POV from now on.

The bar was crowded as usual. Tywin disliked vacationers, especially those who thought it a good idea to just shrug on an ugly shirt and drop by for a drink, their swimwear still dripping salt water all over the place. The fact that this particular bar was located near the beach didn’t mean that it was acceptable to wear swimming trunks inside. He often wondered why he even bothered to visit. Maybe it was a force of habit. Tywin had frequented this establishment for years and his table was always available to him.

He had felt someone’s eyes on him from the very moment he had entered. It wasn’t all the time but often enough that he found it irritating. Tywin honestly disliked visiting summer resorts like this but the cultivation of friendly relations with the owners of local restaurants and bars meant that his products would sell well. Now _that_ was a force of habit, he couldn’t allow himself to lie down on the job even when the job was more of a hobby. It wasn’t like he needed to sell his wine to make a living.

Turning his head furtively, it took him only a moment to locate the person who was paying him so much attention.

_Well, well, well_. He hadn’t expected it to be a woman so young or so beautiful, and so embarrassed by the fact that she obviously couldn’t take her eyes off him for long. He smirked to himself and returned the favor, carefully mapping every inch of her body with his assessing gaze. She was a tall girl with a slender figure and fiery hair, the type one would expect to work as a model for a fancy fashion magazine.

_The type that garners the attention of every male in possession of eyes_, he frowned slightly and discreetly glanced around. The girl herself was being watched, quite hungrily, by several men. Some of them were also tourists but some of them were locals and Tywin was sure that they would sooner or later approach her with their offers.

In Dorne, such a delicate northern beauty was alluringly exotic, after all. Being blond and green-eyed himself, he knew all about the fascination of the Dornish with other, differently colored inhabitants of Westeros.

He turned away and took a sip of his water, but he felt her glancing at him over and over again. Of course, the girl being from the northern parts of Westeros probably meant that she knew who he was and was curious about what Tywin Lannister was doing in this part of Dorne where only vacationers spent any amount of time. There wasn’t much to do or to see here.

He was a vain man, and something inside of him responded to her obvious interest and he found it flattering – he knew he was a good-looking man still, and it irked him that women usually found his bank accounts to be the most desirable trait about him. Was this girl one of those harpies? She didn’t look the part but looks were often deceiving.

Tywin decided to investigate where the truth was and after a few minutes in her presence, he had his answer. However remarkable it was, Sansa – for that was her name – seemed actually _attracted_ to him to the point of distraction. She kept losing herself in his eyes when he caught her gaze, blushing becomingly. What was even more curious was the fact that she didn’t know who he was and didn’t seem to _care_.

_How fascinating_, he thought when they exchanged playful banter and before he knew it, he offered to take her to his vineyard for a tour and a bit of tasting before some Dornishman with soulful eyes could approach her with his offer of wild sex.

To his smug satisfaction, Sansa caught the meaning behind his words and agreed readily. Oh yes, he was sure he would enjoy tasting such a sweet creature thoroughly. By the gods, wasn’t the idea just _exhilarating_? How long had it been since a woman warmed his bed out of a genuine desire for him? Not for his money, or his influence, or for the bragging rights of being bedded by one of the wealthiest men in Westeros? He had surely been much younger, poorer and less notorious.

Tywin remained cautious, however, and didn’t even try to kiss her despite the fact that her lips looked like they were made for that. Sansa didn’t seem like a girl who would kiss – or fuck – a complete stranger but the thing was, Tywin knew nothing about her. He left the lady soon after lunch in order to rectify the mistake. His pet spider needed to earn the outrageous amount of money Tywin paid him, after all.

***

She was a bloody Stark. He detested the honorable Ned Stark and the feeling was more than mutual. For a moment, Tywin considered canceling their meeting but then the memory of her blue eyes flashed to the forefront of his mind, and the way she had laughed at his dry jokes and how she had blushed when he had caught her staring at his chest hair, of all things – and Tywin continued to read the file Varys had prepared on her.

She was finishing medical school and even had several promising offers of internship from hospitals from across the Westeros; King’s Landing, of course, but also Storm’s End, Lannisport and even Riverrun and Sunspear. The Stark name did carry certain weight even outside of the North. He skipped the info about her family or hobbies and habits, not willing to read any more about the former, and rather looking forward to discovering the latter by himself. What gave him pause and forced Tywin to pay very close attention, however, was the section about her love life.

Sansa Stark seemed to be attracted to men older than her who happened to be smart and well-off. There had been Mormont, arrested for human trafficking, and then the Tyrell eldest son, a history teacher fired from his post at KL Uni for inappropriate behavior toward female students, and finally Baelish who had been supposed to accompany Sansa to Dorne and yet he wasn’t here and Varys hadn’t been able to find out why.

_A lovers’ quarrel?_ Tywin had always known what a fool Baelish was and the fact that he had let his partner go alone to Dorne was the epitome of stupidity. According to Varys’ information, Sansa had been already approached numerous times by the Dornish and had turned down every single offer…

_Until his, of course_. Tywin smirked smugly and checked the time. He was picking her up in an hour and he spent the car ride thinking about how her lips would taste. Now that he knew for certain that she wasn’t a gold-digger or a sensational hunter and that she didn’t simply spread her legs for anyone who came asking, he felt more at ease. Tywin would say that he was even excited to indulge in this unexpected affair with her, however atypical this behavior was for him.

He couldn’t resist pulling her close, this alluring, sweet-smelling and constantly flushing little lamb who had so willingly rushed into a lion’s jaw. He marveled at every single reaction he had managed to coax out of her, every blush, every sigh, ever hitch in breathing; all for him and all genuine.

Honesty was rare and precious in Tywin’s world. It unlocked something inside of him and Tywin, for the first time in ages, felt completely comfortable in the presence of another person. He was also rather pleased by her reactions to his vineyard and surprised that she understood what the patch of land meant to him.

Sansa was the only one in the entire world who understood, even though most of his lecture about the finer points of winemaking went right over her head. Tywin enjoyed the morning with her and when they rested together at the beach, it felt important to clear something up, to continue with the openness and trust he had shown her when he had brought her to his vineyard. He wasn’t a man who was used to the Dornish way of life, unlike some, and he wanted Sansa to know that he considered their encounter special. _She’s special_.

***

They spent two days wandering around the vineyard and making love in various places not primarily designed for that activity, but Sansa didn’t seem to mind. When the time to return her to her hotel came, a full day later than had been planned, Tywin was almost shocked by his reluctance to let her out of his bed and most importantly, his sight.

Alas, he did so with a brief kiss on her closed lips and a promise to see her one more time before her flight on the fifteenth. She had expressed a wish to visit Yronwood and while he had been there too many times to count, he supposed that he could arrange a little trip and a private midnight tour of the most interesting places there and then spend the rest of the night worshipping her perfect body one last time.

That the trip happened to be on the fourteenth was a pure coincidence, of course, but Sansa would surely appreciate the gesture. It would also help with the melancholy he had glimpsed in her eyes when she had thought he hadn’t been paying attention. She was so expressive – her face was always easy to read and her eyes reflected her emotions openly, betraying her every thought.

The idea that she was hurt because Baelish had stood her up wasn’t sitting well with Tywin but he gritted his teeth and ignored the feeling in the following days. Their affair had an expiratory date, they both knew it, and Tywin wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. He just wanted Sansa to remember her time with him fondly – not all older, rich men were untrustworthy idiots as her previous partners had shown her. He cherished the fragile trust between them, the honesty they had shared, the ease of their lovemaking as if they had been made for each other.

Since Tywin planned the trip to be a surprise, he appeared at her hotel unannounced, twirling a single red rose between his fingers. They hadn’t exchanged phone numbers and while he could obtain hers easily, he knew that it was pointless to do so. Tywin ignored the hideous pink and red heart-shaped balloons in the lobby and moved to the lifts. He disliked most of those commercial holidays and the only times when he tolerated the color pink were those when a beautiful woman was blushing.

When Sansa didn’t answer her door, he found his way into the hotel restaurant which was thankfully more tastefully decorated with flower baskets and dimmed lights creating an intimate atmosphere.

Glancing around, he observed that all the tables were set for two, half of them already occupied and lit by candles. Sansa’s fiery hair stood out from the sea of other mundane hair colors and he allowed a small smile to play at the corners of his lips when he finally spotted her. He had missed the sight of her, he was surprised to realize and started to approach her.

Then he stopped in his tracks, hands fisting unwittingly, the stem of the rose in his hand snapping. Sansa wasn’t alone at the table – there was a sharply dressed man sitting with her, his back turned to Tywin. However, he didn’t need to see his face to recognize Petyr Baelish. _What was he doing here?_

There was a terrible moment of indecision as Tywin contemplated his next move. Irrationally, he wanted to whisk her away to Yronwood and proceed with his night as planned, holding her and kissing and loving her until the early morning hours. The best bottle of his wine was chilling in his private helicopter, waiting for them. Tywin wasn’t used to being denied what he wanted and he wanted one last taste of the exquisite beauty that was Sansa Stark.

Baelish stood up from the table and slid down to his knees. _No_. Tywin clenched his jaw and swallowed, gaze glued to Sansa’s face. She appeared shocked and was looking at the man at her feet with wide eyes, one of her slender, trembling hands covering her mouth. Baelish offered her a small velvet box, and even from the distance, Tywin could see how the diamond in the ring caught the candlelight and glimmered in the semidarkness of the restaurant. It wasn’t a cheap trinket, Baelish had good tastes.

Sansa’s eyes watered and she lowered her head, obviously deeply moved. Had she said something? Tywin wasn’t sure. Had she agreed? The thought made him sick. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe! And then his legs were moving forward, bringing the rest of his body along. There was a sharp pain in his chest, an ache as if someone had just cut him open and torn out his heart. He hadn’t thought… he hadn’t known…_ Is this what a heart attack feels like?_

Sansa spotted him first, her eyes widening and then she glanced at the ruined rose in his hand. The tears in her eyes overflew and she grabbed a napkin from the table, standing up in a hurry. “Tywin!”

Baelish finally decided to stop kneeling and sprang up, turning around. His shock was quickly masked and he smiled broadly.

“Mr. Lannister!” he called cheerfully and took a step to stand next to Sansa, one of his hands skimming her waist before it settled at the small of her back. “What a surprise!”

“Baelish.” Tywin gritted his teeth and came to a sudden stop, ignoring the gasp that escaped Sansa when she heard his surname. As he clutched the ruined flower in anger – anger mixed with a whole whirlwind of other emotions – a sharp sting in his palm reminded him that all beautiful things had their thorns. He gathered his resolve and met her eyes, saying coldly, “Ms. Stark.”

He watched her flinch. _Good_. He wanted her to flinch and he wanted her to bleed. Tywin relished in the pain and betrayal that flitted across her face for a moment, wanting to inflict on her the same amount of what he was currently feeling. He hadn’t considered himself a violent man, or a man who took pleasure in hurting others but gods, he wanted her to suffer. _She said yes, didn’t she?_

“You two know each other?” Baelish asked, glancing between them, his mind quickly putting two and two together. He slid his arm around Sansa’s waist completely then, the smile on his face turning into a smirk. “Well, how interesting.”

“Not to worry, Baelish, I merely came to wish Ms. Stark a safe journey home but I see that congratulations are in order.” Tywin glared at her, willing her to say something or to step away from Baelish. Irrationally, he wanted her to come to him and tuck herself against his side and fling the tasteful diamond ring at her suitor’s head. But Sansa didn’t do any of those things. She simply stared right back at him, an empty shattered expression on her face. _So this is it, that’s how things are between us? Nothing left to say?_

Nodding, he composed himself, gathering all his emotions and shutting them firmly behind the iron door of his will. Impersonally watching the woman in front of him, he said, “Congratulations, then, to both of you. What a fine pair you make. Now, you’ll have to excuse me, I have another engagement waiting. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.”

Tywin turned on his heel and hated himself for the foolish part of him that wished for Sansa to call out his name, to stop him from leaving. She didn’t. He marched away, throwing the bloodied rose to the ground, his chest still hurting as if he had left his heart back in the restaurant with her.

He never should have allowed her close, let alone close enough to stir any emotions in him. Had he learned nothing in all his years? Foolish, foolish old man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now that we know what Sansa thinks and feels, I thought it would be interesting to switch to Tywin. I hope you’ll forgive me that bit of drama, I couldn’t resist. What do you think about Ty’s reaction? I’m not sure it wasn’t too much *sighs* Also, Baelish again. Sorry for that, I’ll find myself another villain for the next story. Thanks for reading :)


	4. A colder world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin leaves Dorne for King’s Landing where Sansa happens to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m finally back from my travels and that means this little project has come to an end. Enjoy the last chapter :)

Tywin Lannister couldn’t forget the expression on Sansa Stark’s face from that night. When the haze of fury and hurt finally abated two days later, he wished he could take it all back. But he couldn’t so the betrayal shining from her eyes would continue to haunt him, bleeding the colors and warmth out of the world around him.

There was acute pain at her loss – so piercing, so sharp – and then there was guilt at how he had treated her – something he had no idea how to deal with. He had no right to be angry with her. He hadn’t indicated in any way that he had been interested in anything more than those three days – he hadn’t known himself, after all, how could he expect Sansa to know? She wasn’t his in any way, he hadn’t claimed her as his own. She hadn’t betrayed him, his trust, the honesty between them. It was Tywin who had betrayed her, who had doomed them from the very start. They hadn’t shared their surnames and yet he had snooped around for hers, he had known very well Sansa’s identity and yet he had led her to believe otherwise.

_Hypocrite_, his mind whispered for the hundredth time. Tywin had proved to her that he was just like any other asshole she had met in her short life. _A liar_. He had spent too much time, so many years, surrounded by people like Baelish and Varys and countless others to even stop and think that what he had been doing had been wrong. Having an advantage over others had been a necessity for so long that he couldn’t imagine not knowing everything there was to know about the girl he had considered for his bed.

And Sansa Stark had come and disarmed him with her pure, heartfelt reactions, stealing his heart in the process and finally gutting him as he had stormed out of the hotel, leaving her alone with her fiancé.

_Baelish_, he growled. As if he needed one more reason to dislike the man. Dealing with him had always been unpleasant. Tywin had needed to be careful where Baelish was concerned. He had no idea how he was going to do business with him now that the man knew he had something Tywin wanted so very much. Perhaps it would be best to cut ties with Baelish and find another supplier. Or better yet, he could destroy his company completely… but that was childish and petty and it would show the man how deeply Tywin had been affected by the situation.

_Deeply affected is putting it mildly_. Tywin couldn’t sleep for more than three hours a day, remembering the raw pain he had seen in Sansa’s eyes and how he had ignored it, how he had wished to see more of it. Tywin was also forced to acknowledge that Baelish hadn’t _stolen_ Sansa from him – she had been with that man for more than a year before she had met Tywin in Dorne. He hadn’t asked her any specifics about the relationship, pretending that he hadn’t known about it in the first place.

He shouldn’t have returned her to the hotel, he should have kept her at the vineyard for the entirety of Sansa’s stay and then he should have accompanied her back to King’s Landing, as her official partner. It was his own damned fault that he had let her slip through his fingers and he hated when he had made a mistake.

Since he couldn’t bear the idea of staying at the vineyard, not with memories of Sansa’s laughter carried by the wind, Tywin decided to return north and his first stop was King’s Landing. There were several reasons why he chose the Crownlands and its capital. Three of his companies had HQ within the city center and of course, it was the place where Sansa lived.

Tywin was many things but a coward wasn’t one of them. He was terrible at apologies and he rarely admitted his mistakes – mostly because he did not make any – but he felt that he owned the little lamb an apology because he had fucked up and treated her appallingly. A man like him wasn’t used to feelings of guilt. He also wasn’t used to losing, let alone the woman who had stirred his dead heart back to life, to a lesser man like Baelish – and he planned to do something about those two things and as soon as possible.

He spent the first week back from his _vacation_ in meetings – with business partners and colleagues during the day, with family in the evenings. The fact that his family was rather dysfunctional meant that he couldn’t meet them all at once but it had to happen individually.

Kevan was as usual glad to hand over the reins of power and they spent a pleasant evening tasting Tywin’s latest vintage. Tyrion managed to make a spectacle of himself twice during one hour when Tywin dined with his youngest but it was hardly a surprise seeing that Tyrion had left his fourth unsuccessful rehab recently. Jaime with his giant wife welcomed him in their modest home with a casual sincerity that reminded Tywin sharply of Sansa. Cersei spent the evening gleefully informing him about everything he had missed in the last two months while Robert was getting drunk and their children wreaked havoc around the table.

Cersei’s interest in gossiping, however, alerted Tywin to one important fact. _The eldest Stark girl dumped that ridiculous man she’d been dating_, as his daughter put it, and it improved his brooding dark mood considerably.

***

He noticed the Tyrell girl leave and sat up straighter, debating if he should make his presence known. Tywin was currently sitting in a small café near the medical school Sansa attended and was trying to come up with a suitable way to talk to the girl who had stolen his heart, and who happened to sit several tables away from him.

Just watching her brought a spark of light and warmth back into his world. Sansa looked comfortable as she was warmly dressed and sipping from her cup, her sunkissed skin gleaming in the soft light of the café. She had just buried her nose in a book, a silly romance if the cover was anything to go by, and seemed oblivious to her surroundings. Tywin knew that he would ruin her moment of peace with his approach so he watched her a minute longer, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant. She was just as beautiful as he remembered her and he felt a sharp tug at his heart that reminded him what a fool he had been in the last two weeks.

With a sigh, he rose from his table and approached hers.

“Hello, Sansa,” he said softly, his tone perfectly neutral. “Mind if I join you?”

She started and blinked up at him, and Tywin was strongly reminded of their first meeting. This time, she didn’t blush sweetly, however, and her eyes narrowed.

“Mr. Lannister,” she answered and shook her head, putting her book away and reaching for her cup. “What are you doing here?”

Tywin waited for a beat for her to offer him the seat next to hers. When she didn’t, he sat down anyway and raised an eyebrow at her. He understood her anger and the feeling of betrayal more than she could possibly know. He was glad that she had dumped Baelish soon after their return to King’s Landing yet the fact that she had left with the man in the first place still stung.

“It seems that my congratulations were premature.” Making himself comfortable, he inclined his head. “For that, I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Sansa snorted and didn’t spare him a glance, stubbornly staring at her tea. “But not for offering them in the first place without giving me a chance to explain that there wouldn’t be a bloody wedding? Well, thank you, I suppose. If that’s all, please don’t let me keep you.”

Tywin had known that he had wronged her but seeing Sansa as anything but gentle and sweet, with her ire directed at him, was a sobering experience. Hearing her saying that she hadn’t planned to marry Baelish at all brought him relief and pain in equal measures. How differently that night could have ended? With them in Yronwood, enjoying the rest of Valentine’s Day privately? Oh, gods, he truly had been a fool.

There was a hitch in her breathing and she swallowed, bringing Tywin’s attention back to her. He observed her carefully for a moment. Sansa was struggling, that much was obvious. She tried her very best not to show her emotions and was slowly failing in her endeavor. Her lower lip trembled and she bit down on it. Her hands were wrapped tightly around the cup yet he could still see them shaking. Her eyes were averted so he wouldn’t notice how close she was to tears.

_Oh, sweet little lamb_, Tywin clenched his jaw. Every single one of her emotions was so openly displayed on her face as usual and she was _hurting_. His first instinct was to reach for her to hold her close and chase the pain away. But he was the source of the hurt and she would hardly appreciate him touching her right now.

“I owe you an apology for other things as well, Sansa.” Tywin’s voice cracked at her name and he closed his eyes briefly.

“Do you? I can’t think of any reason why you would.” Her gaze flitted toward him and then she took a sip and put the cup down, staring down at the table now. Her whole body was so tense and her hands so tightly fisted that Tywin was afraid she would hurt herself. “Well, maybe I can but I don’t want to rake over that.”

“I’m not a man who usually asks for forgiveness,” he told her quietly, urging her to look at him. “Yet here I am. I regret the way I reacted that night.”

He had been ruled by his chaotic emotions and while he knew that his cold mask had been firmly in place, he also knew how his actions must have affected such a gentle creature like Sansa. He could see it with his own eyes.

“Is that all you are apologizing for?” She inhaled sharply and finally turned her head toward him fully. Tywin immediately wished she hadn’t done that because the look in her eyes was like a punch to his stomach. He felt like the most despicable creature in the whole world for hurting someone so pure. It was a novel feeling, one he strongly disliked.

“We Starks are not as notorious as you Lannisters,” she started, voice wavering but her face reflected her determination to continue. “We don’t get recognized in the streets or on holidays, not many people even recognize that name outside of the North – only those in the same circles. The honorable Starks, you can always depend on them. When we didn’t share our last names, Tywin, I stupidly believed that we wouldn’t need to, that it didn’t matter. I was wrong. It mattered to you enough to go and find out behind my back instead of just asking me. I would have told you-”

She broke off and swallowed, grabbing a paper napkin from the table, dabbing at her eyes. Tywin clenched his hands together, the need to reach out for her was physically paining him but he was sure she would break under his touch.

“I would have told you but that’s the catch, isn’t it? If I told you my name, I would have asked you yours and you didn’t want that, right? That would require _you_ to trust _me_ to some degree, right?” Sansa scoffed. “Well, I hope you enjoyed playing with me, the stupid girl who didn’t even recognize you, the stupid girl who amused you by her _reactions_, right?”

Having his own words thrown back at him, all twisted and misunderstood, sparked an automatic response in him. Tywin moved, quickly grasping her free hand and pried her clenched fist open, squeezing her fingers with his.

“I wasn’t playing with you,” he hissed.

“I believed we were on even ground, Tywin! Do you take me for an idiot? I know your type well, thank you very much! You were afraid that I was just another gold-digger and _I_ wasn’t enough to convince you of the truth, you had to go and dig up things about me! Am I supposed to believe that you stopped when you learned my name? Please! You disrespected me and lied to me, all the while praising my honesty and openness… and then you went and insulted my intelligence and integrity even more by thinking that I would sleep with you and date Petyr at the same time and then happily marry him! After he broke my heart? After I let go of every memory of him! After your stupid vineyard? As if I could marry someone I didn’t love!” She shuddered and fell silent swallowing a heavy lump in her throat.

“But what does it matter, anyway? It was just a holiday fling and my reaction is exaggerated, right?” Sansa tugged her hand back and cradled it to her chest, eyes closed and face turned sideways, cheeks slowly turning red at her outburst.

There was a moment of silence as Tywin mulled over her words. He didn’t believe that her reaction was exaggerated because he thought that he had betrayed her trust. They had put a considerable amount of emotions into their affair – too much for it to be only a casual holiday fling. That was the reason why they both had such strong reactions to the situation; him to Baelish proposing to Sansa and her to finding out his little lie. If he wasn’t mistaken, and Sansa’s inability to hide her emotions left him little doubt, she had just confessed that she loved him. All breath left him and his shoulders sagged with relief, a small smile gracing his lips.

_At least I’m not the only one emotionally invested in this_, he concluded inwardly. With a small smirk, he reached out to touch her cheek. Sansa flinched at first but allowed him to move her head so she looked into his eyes.

“If I asked you out here in King’s Landing with every intention of not letting you go out of my sight for more than a day, would it still qualify as a holiday fling?” he asked. “It doesn’t make much sense to label it as such seeing that we both live here right now until we decide to live somewhere else.”

Sansa was looking at him for a moment, her blue eyes still glistening with tears. The implication in his words was totally intended and he hoped she would catch it – and Sansa did. So very slowly, her forlorn expression was replaced by something resembling a shadow of a smile – just a slight upturn of the corners of her lips. Her gaze flickered between his eyes and then settled on his mouth as she asked, “Like at a vineyard in Dorne?”

“Like at a vineyard in Dorne. Well, since I lived there when we met, I can’t really consider you a holiday fling at all, now can I? More like a whirlwind romance.” Tywin smirked some more when she huffed out soft short laughter. Then Sansa’s breath hitched and he pulled her out of the chair and into his lap, wrapping his arms around her back as she shook with sobs, her face pressed against his chest. Her cries were so raw, as unadulterated as everything about Sansa was. She didn’t do anything by halves, did she? When she laughed, when she cried, when she loved, it was always for one hundred percent.

Tywin glared at the people at the nearest table who were staring at them, and they averted their gazes. He should have approached her in a more private setting, knowing how her reactions tended to be so heartfelt. Hopefully, the staff of the café would have enough sense not to disturb them.

“Does that mean yes?” he asked when she finally calmed down, returning the embrace. After he had glared at other people as well, the rest of the guests minded their own business to Tywin’s satisfaction.

“Let me think about it for a moment longer,” she mumbled, breathing him in. “I don’t want you to think that I’m a fickle stupid girl who can be soothed by pretty words and a bit of nice cologne. You smell really good.”

“I’m not one for pretty words,” he chuckled, resting his chin on the top of her head. Making certain that his voice was sincere, he whispered into Sansa’s ear, “I’m sorry, Sansa, I honestly am. For everything.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, we can go out sometime later this week,” she clarified and tilted her head back to look at him. Her eyes were bright and she was smiling softly. “And I suppose you want to return to Dorne when the time for harvest comes?”

“Someone has to make sure my people won’t mess it up.” He nodded and lowered his head slowly, giving her the opportunity to refuse. She didn’t and accepted the kiss – just a soft pressure of his lips against hers, a sweet apology and its acceptance – before she buried her face back into his neck, sighing softly.

Closing his eyes, he mirrored the sigh, a sense of peace settling over him. Tywin knew that he would probably hurt the little lamb again sometime in the future – he was a hard man to love and Sansa was so gentle that it was inevitable. He also knew, though, that they would deal with it together when the time came and that he would be, forgiven, eventually. He didn’t do anything by halves either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it – it was sort of a ‘light writing,’ I suppose *grins* There are some parallels between ‘Sunkissed’ and ‘Sanctuary,’ so for those who would like to see more of Ty/Sansa in a modern setting, that’s the story to read. The next chapter’s coming up soon.   
On my way back home, I started typing ‘Blood of the Wolf,’ and I’d like to invite you all to check that one out. I consider it one of the best stories I’ve written and count it among the hardest to write as well.  
Thank you again for reading and commenting and know that I love ya all *winks*

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I promised Italian setting for this one and my original idea was to actually set the story in Venice and northern part of Italy but then the Dornish customs came up and here we are. I think this works slightly better – it was more fun to play with for sure. Blame the wine! Anyway, thanks for reading and let me know what you think *winks* Cheers, Mad :)


End file.
